A Recipe Not Long Forgotten
by T'Riva's Sarek Sanctum
Summary: Amanda has Sarek over for dinner to christen their budding friendship, with hopes for more but doubting her chances.  But an old family recipe might bring a few surprises she never would have suspected.
1. Chapter 1

**A Recipe Not Long Forgotten**

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><p><strong>Constructive criticism always welcome!<strong>

**Reviews very much appreciated!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<br>**

Amanda had been so focused on the thought of Ambassador Sarek visiting her apartment that she had failed to notice the weather had turned threatening. Not an uncommon event in San Francisco, but the high winds added to the hearty downpour could likely look quite intimidating to a Vulcan. The traffic was getting treacherous when added to the approach of the holiday season and its tumult of frenzied shoppers. She imagined that a drenched Vulcan might resemble a cat in the same condition, at least in temperament and ability to cope.

She had learned over the past months to skillfully maneuver her conversations and teasing to wrest from him his softer, gentler side. Hoped that he fared better than she imagined in the winter onslaught so it didn't eliminate the possibility of warming relations a little further. She had decided to attempt some old-fashioned coaxing with homemade food she could actually cook, which was limited. All was prepared and left in the stasis box so that each food would retain its temperature and moisture until served.

She had started a batch of homemade cinnamon rolls from an old family recipe earlier in the day, but had been diverted by a flurry of phone calls, first from the few well-wishers who she had shared her intentions with and later, toward the evening, from family about the storm, which now caught her attention. As it became too late to finish before he arrived she decided that perhaps she could finish the rolls quickly while he had a glass or two of wine. Her mother had caught her father's interest with this very same recipe, but she didn't need to share that tidbit with her quarry.

She had started the wine without him, a glass of Zinfandel, to get in a slightly bubbly mood to hopefully add to the evening's buoyancy, but also to garner the nerve to perhaps hint at something more. Without being too obvious, of course. She would never want to risk their budding friendship, but it was getting much harder to ignore his draw. She had always thought him quite handsome from the first day she'd met him, and handled it as she would any unavailable man whether he be married or, as in this case, with circumstances too complex to even fathom the number of reasons they shouldn't expect anything more.

But the daydreams began soon after she met him. She had also began to wonder if the looks he sent her that held a little longer than seemed casual, and his running into her more often than expected might be more than her imagination running away with her. She started to notice his scent was a very pleasant mix of spice and musk that put a flutter to her heart and caused her to catch a breath every once and again. His personal comfort zone with her seemed to decrease to the point that he accidentally brushed or bumped her every once and awhile.

She had started to glance where she shouldn't when his attention was diverted, tracing his lines when he wore more standard clothing that showed his nice body-the broad shoulders that pulled at his silk shirt and coat when he twisted to retrieve something. Even the tight, firm buttocks that his pants tightened over as he leaned over to pick up something she had dropped. Okay, she had dropped things more often after he leaned to get that first and she noticed the splendid view. And then the day she had caught him at an inopportune moment to pick up a disc at his private suite in the embassy. He only wore a thin silk-like shorts and tank combo, extremely form fitting. She assumed it was a Vulcan exercise outfit of sorts because he had stated that he had been performing Nye'ler, a sort of cross between dance and Tai-Chi. She had to force herself not to return her glance to the obvious outline of a serious package between his tight, firm thighs.

She heard the doorbell and checked herself once more in the mirror. A bit of cleavage that from his height would supply a nice view. A form-fitting dress of thin silk with enough leg showing so not to appear vamp but that might attract his attention. A slit traced up a little too high on the thigh in the back so that if she turned away and leaned over, for a last chance if nothing else stirred him. She felt her heart begin to pound as she reached for the doorknob.

And there he stood, enigmatic as usual. His tall, broad-shouldered form seemed to fill her doorway, and to tower above as she remembered her forgotten shoes, the absence of which must make her appear positively tiny. He didn't smile, but looked pleased in that odd way he had of the slight tilt of his head, slight arch of his eyebrow and a glittering in his eyes.

"I am punctual, am I not?" He seemed the slightest bit unsure of himself, which Amanda had never seen in him. She wondered if having him on her turf was keeping him slightly off balance. Perhaps that might help in her situation… It surely gave her some hope of affecting him tonight, at least in some small way.

"As usual," Amanda replied. "However, I seem to be running behind…"

The other eyebrow followed the first. "Perhaps then I could be of assistance."

Amanda couldn't help but grin at the thought and led him to the kitchen.

He looked, if anything, a bit unsettled. "I have never been present during the actual preparation of a repast." He stared at all of the bowls and ingredients spread about the counter.

Amanda couldn't contain a giggle at the expression of wonder on his face. "You act as if it were the discovery of some new chemical element."

He looked at her, then about at the clutter. "If you give me some instruction, I will attempt to lessen your burden." But his lips had tightened slightly so that she was sure he was only being courteous; more likely concerned about his inexperience.

She stifled another giggle at his formality, as if it were some grand experiment. "Perhaps you would like to keep me company while you have a glass of wine?"

"Certainly, madam." She noticed his tone had lightened at only watching. No sooner, he stepped too close behind and startled her with a question-she dropped the cupful of flour all at once into the large bowl and a cloud of flour enveloped them both.

Amanda frowned and turned toward Sarek who was staring at the front of his charcoal gray tunic and slacks now puffed and spattered with white streaks.

"I had not considered I could cause such calamity by mere inquiry," he said.

She laughed aloud at that. Even if he hadn't meant it as a joke, it was too awfully funny. He eyed her curiously; seemed fascinated the outburst of mirth from her. She had always assumed it would upset him, but it seemed to ease their times together instead.

She stared at his shimmering tunic and pants now dulled by the flurry of flour and attempted to flick it off with a towel. "I'm so sorry, sir."

"Let me," he offered, and took the proffered towel from her. "It was I who startled you. I apologize for the further efforts necessary to correct the situation. And 'Sarek,' please. I had thought us long past titles, Ms. Grayson."

She raised an eyebrow. "_Amanda_, then."

He paused then gave a gracious half bow with a tilt of his head. Very dashing, she decided.

She still felt bad about his 'flouring,' and had started lightly slapping his clothes before thinking. Was too close to his crotch before realizing he had frozen. She stopped too abruptly, even as she noticed the slight tightening of his pants about his hips, and perhaps the slightest tenting at the front but looked away too quickly to be sure.

He cleared his throat a little noisily. "I could approximate, within a reasonable margin of error, the amount of flour lost, if that would help any," he said. He didn't meet her eyes, she noticed, as she handed him a spoon and he selected a precise amount of flour and handed it to her, looking too awfully serious about his estimate. It was too little to really matter, but it gave them both a moment to compose themselves.

As she was about to add it to the bowl, he stepped forward again. She stopped mid-motion, looked back at him and he stepped back.

"There are unexpected complexities involved that I had not imagined," Sarek said. "Perhaps I should prepare the fireplace?"

"Good idea," she replied. "We can burn some of the huge allotment of Veriwood you sent ahead." And smiled at that. She had mentioned her fireplace once and he'd sent her a massive amount of the expensive wood substitute that looked and burned exactly like the expensive fruitwoods, but didn't create the same pollution or sacrifice trees.

She realized the size of his fireplace must be much greater than hers from the amount of wood he decided she needed through the winter. It was a sweet gesture, but so Vulcan to imagine she used the fireplace as a necessity in what to him must be a frigid climate. But she did love fires, and now had an excuse to create them almost nightly. Though in San Francisco that usually meant keeping the windows open to keep it cool enough. Except in the summer, ironically.

"The coldest winter I ever spent, was a summer in San Francisco," she said.

Suddenly there was silence. She turned to see Sarek looking quizzically at her.

"A humorous quote from Mark Twain," she explained. "A hyperbole about the irony of San Francisco's summers being so cold, relative to what most would expect for a city with such a temperate climate."

He nodded, but didn't look convinced.

She stopped her mixing as she noticed his back to her as he leaned over, one knee upon the brick seat as he placed the various size 'logs' and "kindling" very methodically to provide the correct air, fuel and heat ratio for the most efficient burning. As he explained once when she had mentioned her difficulties at times getting the fire to catch and continue burning. Of course, she didn't mention that it was often likely because she forgot to open the flue.

She watched the muscled thighs and tight buttocks stretch the silk of his pants at the unusual angle and imagined her hand sliding over them. She wondered again if she had seen what she'd seen earlier. Could she have given him even the slightest of erections at the possibility of her touching his crotch earlier.

He looked around and she started guiltily. "You have found some way for me to assist you?"

She smiled at the many retorts that came unbidden as she leaned her elbows on the counter. He was still so unaware, almost innocent, of innuendo so easily derived. It got many chuckles from women and left him often confused.

"Let's take advantage of your more than adequate muscle mass, she said a little too innocently as she cleared her throat and glanced at his obviously firm biceps as the silk stretched and slipped over them. Stir this just for a bit."

He stepped over and she handed him a wooden spoon, which he accepted resignedly and eyed the bowl of pale, streaked goop. "I have never seen food before it was presented on a table or traveled by on trays. It looks very different than how it appears later," he said confidently.

She smiled at his attempt at cooking conversation. "Just how would you know, if you don't know what it should be when it's finished?"

He blinked at that. "You have caught me playing the ambassador. Sometimes a 'bluff' gets the other to fill in the necessary information." He flushed slightly. "Forgive me."

She smiled at his discomfort at being caught. "We are making cinnamon rolls."

He nodded. "I have heard of Tootsie Rolls…"

Amanda paused at that, with so many questions, but bit her lip instead. They share some ingredients, I think. _Who really knew anymore, with all of the "nutritional" substitutions allowed._

She had the dough rolled out, slathered butter all over it, then began sprinkling sugar and cinnamon over it when she noticed Sarek stepping closer. He seemed to be staring intently, and sniffing, as a cat might, over her shoulder. "That scent," he said in an almost whisper, "what is that?"

"Hmmm?" Amanda said, the back of her hand spreading a streak of cinnamon up her cheek.

Amanda looked up to see Sarek's charcoal silk doused with more flour than before, tried not to laugh and sputtered and snorted instead in a very unladylike manner.

Sarek turned and eyed her with some concern, as if she might be choking.

She waved away his concern and began to laugh even harder, but sobered quickly as he stepped closer than she expected. He put his hand up to her face yet let it pause so very close.

"Are you well?" He asked, looking concerned.

Amanda felt her heart hammering. Just what did he intend. She felt her lips part in surprise and hopeful expectance; a human male in this instance would be preparing to kiss her.

But he only held his stance so very close. She could feel his breaths float down upon her as she arched her neck to stare up into that face. She could even feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. It was so very difficult not to reach for him; to stand so very still as he seemed ready to pounce but waiting for the exact moment. His eyes stared into hers. She saw a mix of green and soft brown with a touch of gold shot through. His lips parted as if mirroring hers.

His thumb touched her face, drew up at an angle as if following the line of her cheekbone. He pulled it from her, twisted his thumb and peered at it, then drew it across his mouth, his tongue slipping out and tasting it. His eyes closed and he seemed almost to swoon then shake himself. Amanda couldn't help but notice how like a cat he seemed at that moment.

His breaths seemed to accelerate. He leaned even closer, breathing more deeply and slowly. "What is that scent? That taste?" he asked in a strange, rough tone she had never heard him use before. Very animal-like, as his actions had been.

She wasn't sure what he had smelled exactly. She was covered in a panoply of ingredients and, to be honest, her thoughts were focused on his nearness and the possibilities than anything else. She wanted him to take her in his arms. She wanted him to take her. She shook her head to clear it.

"Scent?" She found it hard to concentrate on how to answer as he seemed to be staring at her with such intensity, taking such deep breaths of her, feeling his heat. It all seemed so sensual, intimate…erotic. It all seemed it should lead to much more, but was paused to entice her. To lead her astray.

They were friends. He was her employer, a Vulcan, she had to remind herself. He was the ambassador. She-only his teacher, improving his idiom and accent, a linguist hired on by the Vulcan embassy, though she also had her research and theories on the new idea called a universal translator. He stepped even closer as he leaned forward and seemed to breathe in her scent near her cheek.

End of Chapter One (Chapter Two will hopefully come along soon...)


	2. Chapter 2

**A Recipe Not Long Forgotten**

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><p><strong>Constructive criticism always welcome!<strong>

**Reviews very much appreciated!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

He was so very close, even for a human. Just what did this mean? The heat from his body seemed to radiate through her. Her vision seemed to blur and she felt her knees wobble. He had caught her and held her. His eyes stared into hers. "Ms. Grayson, are you sure you are well?"

She smiled at her almost juvenile behavior as she let her body melt into his; felt Sarek's groin hardening as he tightened his grip to keep her from slipping to the floor. His face brushed hers. Her eyes closed at the heady feeling of his tight hold. She would swear his breathing had accelerated. Remembered she hadn't responded to his question. What must he think?

She felt herself picked up and carried to the couch, when her body argued for the bed and his following her into it. Shedding their clothes. His weight upon her. He lay her down and backed away looking disconcerted. "Forgive my indiscretion. I do not normally take such liberties." His cheeks tinged the slightest green.

Amanda looked a bit confused in her daze.

Sarek must have noticed. "I touched-held you as a bondmate would. I do not know what came over me."

Amanda couldn't help but think what other option she'd left him and smiled. "Sarek, I didn't mind. I assure you." She felt guilty that he reproved himself so.

Sarek looked confused and still concerned. "Perhaps I should call a healer for you?" He had knelt next to the couch and Amanda thought he looked so very youthful with his professional demeanor stripped by the seeming dire circumstances.

Amada sat up and noticed that streaks of flour still coated his clothes. She frowned and touched areas that appeared wet from the rain she supposed. "Sarek, you're wet!" She imagined that a Vulcan couldn't be too comfortable in damp clothes.

"It is only water," he said, playing down what must surely bother a Vulcan.

"You looked as if you were about to collapse," he said.

Amanda shook her head and smiled sweetly. Pushed herself up and past Sarek and pulled him toward the fire. "Take off your pants and shirt." What had seemed advantageous before now seemed only necessary. He was Vulcan. He was wet, likely soaked. The two were almost mutually exclusive. He had also been acting oddly and she didn't know what would feel like fever on a Vulcan.

He stood staring at her, his eyes had widened. "Excuse me?"

She sighed. "You're Vulcan."

He cocked his head perplexed, then shocked, before his mask returned. "You would have me disrobe? With you present?" I don't…" He appeared obviously befuddled, a rare sight of strong emotion on a Vulcan. "I realize that human conventions are somewhat more relaxed in… their relationships…"

Now Amanda was confused. "Why should that be a problem?" She realized too late that her reference had been unclear.

Sarek looked taken aback. He swallowed and appeared almost angry. "Surely you are not…" He seemed to be struggling. "…promiscuous?"

Amanda felt as if the world had paused; a long uncomfortable silence ensued. She realized her mouth hung open. Now, she was angry. "I will give the benefit of the doubt that that was a cultural misunderstanding."

Sarek's eyes widened a moment and his shoulders squared. "I beg pardon if you took insult at my inference. I am learning not to judge humans by the values of my own culture."

He was very lucky he hadn't said morals, for she was already too ticked off to be maligned further. "I am not promiscuous," she said through gritted teeth.

"I believe from your tensed posture that I have again caused you to feel insult," he said.

"That you in fact insulted me," she said. Perhaps, on an empty stomach, she drank a bit too much wine before he arrived. Her temper was short, and likely he meant no insult. Though he was a bit straight-laced, had a poker up his ass is actually how several had put it.

And she sometimes noticed he attempted subtle insults, and acted as if it were a cultural misunderstanding, when he seemed annoyed, especially with Andorians, and especially Tellerites. Could he have simply used this invitation to dinner as an excuse for research of humans, and decided that she was undesirable morally, even as a friend?

He was nodding, as if he had realized his mistake. Looked contrite and his voice softened. "I then conclude you are merely a woman of…ill repute?

She felt a fire envelope her and seemed to lose control of her body. She felt the pain of a slap across his face before she realized it.

He caught her wrist, as if she might attempt further attack. He looked furious. His grip tightened on her wrist so painfully she cried out. He loosened it but didn't let go. "You would be wise not to strike me again." His voice was almost a growl. He was breathing rapidly and there was a ferocity in his eyes that made her shiver inside.

She felt her eyes tear up at her disillusionment. "You are not the man I thought, but callous brute intent on demoralizing and demeaning. How dare you!" She had meant to stay strong but felt her voice break and almost slipped into crying, but she wouldn't allow him that. How could she have so judged him worthy of even a friendship. "Get out!" She yelled.

He looked affronted. "It is surely eminently logical, and prudent. Your emotional outburst from no provocation is beyond even my allowance for acceptable behavior from a human. I have to assume you too much a child to control yourself."

His haughty tone made her even angrier. He left immediately, but not before she slipped into crass behavior she'd never allowed herself. "Bastard!" she screamed. She followed with a flying vase and shower of flowers after the door closed, which he likely heard clearly.

She could not help but sob at her misjudging him so much and the pain of his patronizing rebuke. She should feel relief that she discovered this sooner than later, when it would only cause more hurt, but she only felt so very disappointed, humiliated and hurt beneath her anger. Perhaps she was still too naïve at only 25, but she wasn't a child, and didn't deserve such from him.

After crying curled up on the couch, she couldn't help but shore up her sadness and fill it instead with wrath, which was far easier to deal with. She couldn't leave it where he decided it should end. He would at least apologize for such abominable behavior. She might lose her job, but at least she'd have her self-respect!

She was being presumptuous, she realized; she likely no longer had a job. But that didn't mean she was done with him. She would confront him at least and give him a where-to-for as he'd likely never received, as she'd never seen anyone stand up to him yet, except for the infrequent Andorian or Tellerite.

Just how could he have seemed such the gentleman and actually been such an ass? Of course, she had met enough handsome, charming and debonair men who had their seduction down to an art, only for women to find such men only wanted another conquest, or simply a taste out of curiosity. Some men simply believed they should get whatever they wanted, no matter how vile their intentions. He would regret such awful behavior, and there was recourse to being treated in such a way by a superior. He was a public figure also. Too arrogant then to realize the foolishness of thinking himself untouchable.

She thought through her plan for vengeance carefully. She smiled as she strategized. Yet still her heart yearned for the man she thought he was. What seemed so many small courtesies he had extended to her that had won her heart then. It felt as if the man she had felt such admiration, respect and fondness for, that she'd planned so much for in her head, had suddenly died. That he was gone forever. She felt such ravaging grief for that man, even though he never truly was there.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek. Imagined it her beautiful future she had seen with him, and wiped it away.

**End of Chapter 2** (Chapter Three coming soon!)


	3. Chapter 3

**A Recipe Not Long Forgotten**

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><p><strong>Constructive criticism always welcome!<strong>

**Reviews very much appreciated!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

By dawn, Amanda had had time to cool off and think more clearly. She was still quite angry, would still go through with her plan, but she'd be more adult and certainly more subtle. If she should storm in and berate him, she likely would appear foolish and child-like (as he had wrongfully concluded) and would certainly appear so to most in the embassy.

She would act the adult, but firm and resolute. She would confront him, clarify that she realized her employment would end, either because of their argument, or at least because of the discomfort they would feel around each other. She needed these things heard so at least they both knew where she stood, and she would feel some closure. She was also curious how he would behave after what had occurred, if she was even allowed near him anymore.

She felt great relief when no one seemed to care that she entered the embassy, so at least she could retrieve her things quietly. She felt a squeeze of her heart that she would no longer be a part of the quietly milling crowd that had been such a comfort. That she would likely never see most of those she had grown fond of. She had started to feel so very comfortable. Felt accepted finally. Enjoyed the work more than she had imagined she could.

She paused at the elevator, and turned on her heel to head for that "other" elevator that lead to the ambassador's offices. She felt anxiety as she usually did when she headed that way. Not the almost giddy anticipation, but dread. She had felt his anger clearly when he had grabbed her arm. Had worn a long-sleeved blouse to cover the imprints of his fingers. Once her adrenaline had dissolved, even the memory of his anger frightened her.

Before she had chance to approach the elevator, she saw the doors open and a group of very official-looking men exit. With a lurch of discomfort, she realized she was too far down the hall to turn tail without all of them noticing. She flipped through some disks, acting as if she was wholly distracted. Having second thoughts as to how that might be more a coward's way out. She stepped to the right as she looked up to pass them. Only to realize too late they had stepped to the left to let her by.

She bumped into Sarek head-on, and could only think to calmly greet him: "Ambassador." She realized her tone was brusque, almost cold, and she still stood too close, as if challenging him. She must have appeared completely disrespectful as to even shock a Tellerite. Her feet carried her around him in embarrassed haste, before she could conceive how to rectify such a blunder. She hadn't even said "excuse me," to any of them.

Only after, did she realize who else had stood with him and felt like crawling into a hole. The Terran and Andorian Ambassadors had been at Sarek's left. And too his right, none other than the Federation President, himself. Who she likely almost bowled over.

She felt her face heat and her eyes burn. At least she knew where Sarek was. Perhaps she might escape back to her desk with no one noticing. She would just act like she forgot something and turn around after they were gone.

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><p>Sarek's eyebrows had flown to his bangs and he had paused in mid-sentence and mid-step. He realized he might have some discomfort reengaging with that human female until her professionalism reined her in, but the scene that just occurred he wouldn't have expected even of a child. She appeared to purposefully collide with them, when he couldn't have been with a more important group. His controls escalated to keep his strong emotions from showing. Perhaps they'd think she was only some lost visitor, or relation of a just hired human. He couldn't keep himself from swallowing, and then berate himself for broadcasting his anxious discomfort.<p>

He realized that both ambassadors and the Federation president were looking at him. The Federation president looked discretely off immediately after. The Terran ambassador's lips were pursed as he peered sideways at him. He looked as if he was trying not to laugh. It was an expression Sarek could clearly recognize by now. The Andorian ambassador was smiling wide, his pointed teeth flashing. Sarek braced himself.

The Andorian's grin only widened. "Isn't that the pretty, young lady you had "lunch" with yesterday?" His tone could be what Terrans called lewd, he assumed, since the two other Terrans grimaced. "What is that saying you Terrans are fond of? Dipping your pen…"

Sarek glared at him coldly, and continued the conversation and step where they had left off. Luckily, the Andorian's grossly flawed memory allowed for prompt distraction. Again, however, the Terran ambassador had that crimped mouth. And he heard an odd strangled cough from the president, which didn't translate, but he was sure he wouldn't like what it meant if it did.

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><p>When the group had disappeared around the corner, Amanda hurried back as quickly as she could, trying to keep her tears of humiliation at bay. She had inadvertently acted childish without even realizing it, until too late. She decided that she would pack her things quickly in case she'd be escorted out by security. Why the hell hadn't she just called in sick until she felt somewhat less upset? She saw Soran coming up the hall looking deep in thought. Hoped to slip past him before he noticed her, or at least her highly emotional state.<p>

She walked quickly by, looking a bit in the opposite direction. She focused on keeping her stride consistent and her breathing as calm as possible. These things were noticed by Vulcans. She could no longer hear Soran's footsteps, and hoped he had just stopped for some other reason but to look back at her.

She arrived at her desk with a transport bin tagged for quick-release inspection to be beamed off to her apartment. She began rummaging for anything personal first, before having to decide what could be considered embassy property and flagged. She wanted to get out clean, not be dragged back for some ridiculous reason as a memo with one questionable word in it.

She couldn't imagine how badly this might hurt her career. Didn't even want to think about it. She had already filled half the box and stared at it with a feeling of foolishness and failure, when the sound of solid footsteps approached behind her. A male, likely. One who didn't need permission to enter her office and obviously didn't think he needed to be polite enough to ask. She steeled herself, and turned holding her head high.

Soran stared at her in concern. "I should have requested entry, forgive me," he said. "But you looked gravely ill and I thought it important to assess your health immediately."

Amanda laughed in relief even as she started to cry.

"Amanda?"

She waved him off. "I'll be okay."

"Can you explain the meaning of the transport box filled with your personal items?" Soran sounded baffled now as well.

"Has an illness or death occurred? Should we make emergency arrangements for you? I am sure that the ambassador would help in whatever way you should need."

Amanda made an inadvertent harsh noise that Soran couldn't decipher. "I'm sure he'll be pleased he won't be needing anything from me again."

"I do not understand," Sorn said. In that slightly sweet and stilted way she always thought cute in Sarek.

She felt a pain again that only made her feel pathetic now.

"May I inquire if you mean to keep your language coaching appointment with the ambassador as scheduled today?" Soran looked a touch confused, at least to one so familiar with Vulcans.

"I am sure he no longer expects me for that session," she said. _Especially after my performance in the hallway. "_You no longer have to double-check on this fickle human keeping to her duties." Her tone was harsher than intended, and she felt guilty for aiming her angst at him so undeservedly.

"But he does," Soran said. "He just signaled to make sure the rest of his appointments were on time today. He would have mentioned specifically if he no longer expected you, especially since it is in only just over two minutes past a quarter of an hour Earth time from now."

Amanda smiled at his awkward attempt at eliminating the unnecessary precision for her. At the same time her heart began to pound at the thought of her impending session with Sarek, and how impending it was. She had not prepared any material, assuming he'd at least not see her for the session anymore. She didn't believe he meant to just continue as before. She had a strong impression, because of how he mocked her last night, that this was a bit of payback, perhaps before he canned her. He might even expect an apology, even her begging for her job back. Fat chance!

"I will be there," she said_. With bells on. _She had developed study plans on the fly before. She wouldn't appear in the light he had painted her, as best she could at least.

Soran nodded, but still didn't look entirely comfortable.

**End of Chapter 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**A Recipe Not Long Forgotten**

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><p><strong>Constructive criticism always welcome!<strong>

**Reviews very much appreciated!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

She approached Sarek's main office breezily, her head held high, as if it were like any other language session. The bulky Vulcan guards only gave her a cursory glance. The human secretary for Sarek's offices gave a brief smile in return as usual. Even Sarek's personal secretary only looked up with her calm, almost pleasant, expression for a Vulcan, and nodded her in. All as if nothing were out of the ordinary at all.

She took a deep breath as she paused before the sensors range, then entered through the short hallway and into Sarek's office. He waved to her usual chair across from him without even a glance, which Amanda thought odd. He was in one of his intense, "don't bother me" moments, as he was when he tidied up from one appointment to the next: appending notes to various departments, officials and diplomats. She had never thought about it before but it did give the air of making the other feel at his disposal. She wondered if he had always intended that to bolster his insecurity. If he wanted her to feel awkward.

Sarek chimed off the computer. Turned and laid eyes on her. He didn't look patronizing, even irritated. Just calm and prepared for the session. She wondered if this were some sort of competition, even a test to see if she were even worthy of this session, likely her last.

"Would you like some beverage or nourishment, as this is usually the time humans expect nutritional sustenance." His tone was placid. His eyes held no emotion whatsoever. He was as cold as he had ever been with her, but in no way angry. Just void. She couldn't decide if the statement was meant to be snide.

"No, thank you," she gave the merest shade of a smile with the blankest of eyes. "I think we should start since you have much to learn." She held his eyes and saw a flicker of annoyance.

"I agree, we should begin, so not to waste anymore time."

She paused at that, wondering at his reference. But ignored it so not to be distracted from her goal. He was good, she'd give him that. She couldn't even tell if he were trying to bait her, but she felt her anger rising. Did he just keep the session to play with her? To punish her?

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She raised one back, with the blandest expression she could muster.

"We have an unusual lesson plan for today," she said coolly. "It will be more free-flowing, unpredictable."

His other eyebrow followed the first. "Unstructured."

"That would be correct," she said without inflection.

"Meaning, you did not bother to create a lesson plan for today's session," he said. "Isn't that part of your job description?"

"I was hired, in fact by you, to teach you the elements of our language that can't be gleaned through the study of manuals." She allowed a slight, almost condescending, smile. "I realize that Vulcans use structure almost as a crutch..."

His face tightened ever-so-slightly.

"...but language in our culture is ever changing and thereby to learn by planned…mechanics…would leave you at a disadvantage when, as often happens in most cultures, language doesn't follow route pattern."

Damn, that had sounded better than she expected it could. The use of such a disparaging word as "crutch" was a low blow, but it felt so good.

She continued, "Let us start with words that we've heard bantered about that aren't quite clear in their context."

He stared at her for several beats, as if considering something. "Is not the word "bastard" related to the word "bastardize", as in "to pervert", as humans do to their language. Therefore, a "bastard" would be analogous to "a perversion", as in something that doesn't quite fit the established, inflexible mold.

Amanda paused at that, trying to figure out if he really had transmuted her obvious insult from the night before into a compliment from the human point of view. In fact, in direct conflict with her implication that Vulcans were so rigid. And at the same time, insulting her species.

"Not exactly," she replied.

"Meaning close enough, as you humans are wont to say." Sarek stared her down.

Amanda stared back. "Meaning that I'm politely disagreeing so not to be rude or embarrass. A civility and grace beyond most Vulcans, even their diplomats." And "wont" is antiquated nowadays; "accustomed" would be far better understood, therefore correct."

She added, " 'Ass' would be quite an appropriate synonym for 'bastard' " .

His expression didn't change in the minutest. She wasn't sure he gathered her insult.

"A hoofed mammal of the genus Equus," he stated blandly, sounding almost bored.

"You forgot the obnoxious braying, insufferable stubbornness and...ridiculous long ears. But no, you're wrong. Again." She smiled brightly now.

"Then the anatomical reference to the buttocks and anus?" He sounded a little too Vulcan now. Appearing to need some significant control of his emotions. Perhaps she would win this after all, even if she lost her job.

"Very good!" She said, "but it's more of the metaphorical sense. She continued, full steam ahead, since he so conveniently opened the door. "As if we had to denote each species to some part of the anatomy, as the Humans the heart, the Vulcans the brain, the Andorians the teeth, the Deltans the genitals… the Tellerites the… feet."

Sarek looked a bit amused by that last. She had distracted him as she'd hoped.

"You, Ambassador, would be the 'ass', short for 'asshole'."

The amusement was gone.

"Other appropriate synonyms might include: shithead, fuckball, cocksucker, prick, dickhead, jackass, son of a…"

"I believe I understand." He looked positively annoyed now.

"Are you sure?"

"I am certain."

Sarek started to tap his pen on the desk, which was so very uncharacteristic that she believed it a tactic to regain his composure while distracting her.

He stopped the tapping. "I must say, your free-flowing "plan", though far less comprehensive, is certainly more…interesting and provocative. But you must accept the reality of this situation."

"No duh!"

Sarek's eyebrows lifted to his bangs.

She couldn't believe she said that out loud. What the hell then she'd bring out the big guns now. She had nothing to lose. "I have my contract." And they would honor it to the day or she'd make a stink like they'd never seen.

"Yes, you do." Sarek stared blankly at her again.

And here comes the negotiation, and likely the threats, she deduced. He would show her what he gave her a hint of last night when he scared her. But what could he do to her in his office, really, but bluster.

Sarek gave a slight shake of his head. "No matter how disrespectfully, in fact, how vulgarly you may treat me, _you will_ fulfill your contract, to the day. There are ways we can mitigate your behavior toward me if it does not improve. I demand respect from my staff. I must have it to perform my duties. To be effective. Too many depend on me, and disappointment for many we represent come at a cost to them, the most vulnerable, that we could never imagine."

Now she felt guilty; her priorities warped. But she was also totally confused. "I'm not fired?"

Sarek stared at her blankly. "Why would I fire you?"

"Last night? This session?" She couldn't believe he could be so dense. Could he?

Sarek looked down at the desk for a moment. When he looked up the warmth was back. "In my work, I come upon many cultural misunderstandings. Sometimes I forget to apply that outside of my work."

Amanda started to believe he was sincere, and might be correct. That maybe all of this had been a misunderstanding.

Sarek continued, "I think I expected more of you than was fair, especially for your age."

"Excuse me?"

"Was I not clear?" He asked.

"First, you all but called me promiscuous." Her anger began to grow.

Sarek looked a bit contrite but also annoyed. "I apologized for that."

"Then you implied I was a prostitute."

"Why should that bother you?" he asked. "I do not judge you for it."

Amanda stood, seething. "How egalitarian and magnanimous of you." The desk was too deep for what she considered doing to him this time. But still she considered a way around that. She had to wonder if he would be too proud to admit an assault to his "boys."

Sarek now stood, almost defensively. "Why should I need to be such not to judge one in such an honored position?"

Amanda tried to unravel what he'd said, what she'd said, today and last night, and was utterly confused.

The two burly guards all but barreled in, followed by both secretaries and far worse, the three men he had paused the meeting with so they could break for lunch, and Sarek for his session.

Amanda turned to see the crowd just inside the door and realized their voices, at least hers, must have risen more than they'd, or she'd, realized.

Sarek realized he'd lost track of the time, which had rarely ever happened in his life. He cleared his throat and looked to Amanda. "Same time next week, then."

It was half query, half demand, as fit their stations and venue, but so formal a tone under the circumstances that it seemed almost a farce. It would have been highly amusing if not for the embarrassment, and utter lack of professionalism, at least on her part.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, that works for my schedule." She had to wonder if even one of them believed that was the end of any normal language lesson. Especially since she couldn't bring herself to meet anyone's eyes and all but scuttled out of there, feeling a bit sorry for how she left Sarek to contend with the aftermath.

She had a lot to think about. They both did, it seemed. She had a feeling there'd be no structure to any of their lessons again. The possibilities filled her with wonder, and a touch of glee even. She wasn't sure she was ready to concede that though. After all, negotiations seemed to be just beginning.

**End of Chapter Four**


End file.
